My grandpa died a few weeks ago. My hugely massive Irish Catholic family rallied like champs and got everything taken care of. Man, if I’ve learned anything in my 26 1/2 years, it’s that dying can be a lot of work for the people who aren’t dying. Lots of paperwork, cleaning, organizing, arranging, cooking, waiting, and driving. Why does it always involve so much DRIVING? I’m not saying any of this work is unpleasant. I actually can’t recall times in my life where I loved my family more than when people were dying (or when there was a threat of death). It’s just that ‘work’ experiences such a stark change in purpose that you really have to apply so much more of your mental faculties to the task, and everybody is so unified in their focus… it’s just amazing.
Anyway, if my grandpa had a will, I have no idea what it says. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t get stuff. I totally got stuff. I got OLD JAZZ stuff!!! Oh yes, I now have a very sizeable collection of Benny Goodman, Count Basie, Coleman Hawkins, “the ladies” (you know who I’m talking about), and FRANK SINATRA! I think I’m just going to lay around my house for the next year drinking dry manhattans and smoking candy cigarettes and telling anyone around to “listen here, now!” Maybe I’ll even figure out how to sing like a horn!
Sometimes my life is so good that I almost want to cry. It’s more like I want to explode with serenity, but since everyone always treats exploding like it’s a bad thing, I’ll just say “cry.” If you’re not sure if your life is really good or not, I think I’ve figured out a good test: do you have the time and energy to hate on things that don’t matter? Natalie and I love to hate on things that suck. But see, Natalie and I pretty much agree on the suckage of most things that matter, so all we’re left to hate on together is things we’ve both discovered while trolling the internet or newspaper or our respective towns. Like really stupid blogs. THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT FROM NATALIE: DO NOT WRITE A BLOG ABOUT HOW INSANE AND MAGICAL MOTHERHOOD IS AND THEN EXPECT PEOPLE TO FAWN OVER YOUR MUSINGS AS THOUGH YOU WERE THE FIRST HUMAN BEING TO EVER PROCREATE. THE ODDS ARE YOU SUCK AT WRITING ANYWAY, AND ALSO, YOUR BABY IS MOST LIKELY NOT VERY CUTE. OK, BUT SERIOUSLY. IT’S NOT EVEN A MOST LIKELY THING. YOUR BABY IS UGLY.
But see, if my life were really dumpy, I wouldn’t be able to even think about dumb people writing poorly about ugly babies. Or get really ‘blogged off’ about two dumb bitches looking at a billboard of Marvel comic characters and exclaiming “Where’s Superman???” (Dear Those Two Girls, I will never be your friend. Ever. You are too dumb. Sorry.) So if you have the time and energy to chat with homies about things like this, you are probably operating around at least a 5.
It’s fall now. I thought we were gonna skip it, but we didn’t, praise the lawd. It smells fantastic outside all the time, I keep finding croonchie-crunch yellow leaves in my purse, potluck season is really pushing into full swing, and the best thing I ever do with my friends is go on walks (which is a hard sell in the summer when people just want to find a nice patio and drink beers). And I got my DREAM part-time job!!!! Oh man. I love me some fall. I love me some friends. I love me some jazz. I love me some hatin’. And I love me some love.
Oh, you know what else I love? GAEL GARCIA-BERNAL. I want him to put it on me. I know he won’t, but gagayumyum…